


thirty six degrees centigrade

by waspfactor



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waspfactor/pseuds/waspfactor
Summary: blood is thicker than water except that it isn't. the boy who drowned is more his son than you.
Relationships: Asano Gakuhou & Asano Gakushuu, Asano Gakuhou & Ikeda Rikuto
Comments: 13
Kudos: 90
Collections: Asano Gakushuu Centric





	thirty six degrees centigrade

**Author's Note:**

> im having fun with second pov gakushuu. it allows for maximum projection.
> 
> warm up before breakfast
> 
> title is from [dopamine_machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxhKGjZPjI0)

On your first day of junior high, he pulls you aside, quietly beckoning you to his side. You comply, of course, for he is the teacher and you, the student.

“Call me principal.”

And really, this has been a long time coming. Before principal, it was sir and before that, you didn’t speak. Maybe in some sense, he always been a principal, governing over you with a professional level of separation, a stagnant iciness that only comes about after years of skilled distancing, building a wall to high to ever be scaled and too sturdy to ever be destroyed.

You don’t ever recall calling him dad. You might be related by blood and he might be the closest living relative to you, but he is not your father and you are not his child.

His real child lies silenced, cold and motionless in a watery grave. Too young and too innocent, gone too soon. Your father mourned greatly for that child and still does. The basketball in his office that you are forbidden to look at is a reminder of the fact that he will never love you in such a way. For you are not innocent, and you are aged beyond your years. You are not his child.

The lines blur. You are not his child so what right does he have to hit and scream at you? Really, even if you were his child, what gives him the right. He is an adult, he knows better? No. You don’t think so.

He hits you in front of your classmates one day, for losing 3 points in mathematics. It hurts but a part of you can’t help but feel giddy. The look on his face- he’s _petrified._ The laugh that comes out of your mouth is not yours as you jest about his fatherly side coming out. His eyes darken at that, storm clouds rotting his brain.

You wonder if his son ever saw this side of him. Or perhaps, all he saw, was the calm before the storm.

When your father’s taken away from you, deemed unfit by the flashes of red and blue and red again, the tears he spills are not of sorrow. They are not for you or even for him. They are tears of joy, Tears of joy for the child that was never his.

And how he knows he’ll see that boy soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://wasp-factor.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/waspfactor) :))


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